


When I Think About You...

by LifeInWentworth



Category: Wentworth - Fandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 20:14:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LifeInWentworth/pseuds/LifeInWentworth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt- What was going through Erica's mind when she watched Franky do sit ups and pace the cell?</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I Think About You...

She really should be doing work, she knew that but it was her fault Franky was in that stupid cell anyway. Erica wished she could at least give Franky her books; she knew that would make the slot bearable but instead she watched Franky pace the cell every day, wishing she knew what was going on in her head. Mostly, she wished she knew if Franky was pissed off at her and had any suspicion that this whole thing was absolutely the governor’s fault. She watched Franky do her exercises; she was used to the slot by now and she was good at getting into a routine. Even with all the stress she was under, Erica couldn’t help but notice the way the prisoner’s muscles flexed and relaxed as she did her push up’s and it took her a minute to realise she was biting her lip down so hard it had drawn blood. She swore at herself as she wiped the blood off her lip. She shut the lid of her laptop. 

Franky was like some kind of drug though, and within minutes Erica had opened her laptop again. It had been nearly five weeks, Franky was starting to lose it, that much was obvious. There was only so much of one’s own company that someone could take and Franky was definitely nearing that point. She lay on her back on the floor after another round of push up’s, her chest heaving up and down after the exertion. Sometimes she’d look right at the camera, like she fucking knew that Erica would be watching. But right now, hands behind her head she just tried to regain her breathing, the sweat dripping from everywhere and again, Erica hissed at herself for finding that attractive. She wasn’t a fucking teenager; why couldn’t she control these feelings of lust that washed over her whenever she so much as looked at Franky, let alone interacted with her?

Then Franky punched the door and gasped in pain at the contact. Great, Erica thought, that would have to be a conversation. I can’t let you back in the compound if you’re showing signs of aggression. That was policy. But it was Franky and whether she let her out now or let her out in a week, something was going to happen. Where Franky was concerned, something was always only just around the corner; it was just Erica’s job to try and figure out what it was before it happened and stop it happening, not that that had worked too well for her so far. She sighed, and headed down to the slot for a word with her favourite but least favourite prisoner.


End file.
